Awards Night
by ignorethisiwas12
Summary: Take your average awards show. Add a dash of glitz, a smattering of glamour, and a meddlesome heap of awesome. The Nations' yearly Atlas Awards would never be the same again, if the three of them could help it...
1. Awards, Agreements, and Angry Englishmen

**Title:** Awards Night  
><strong>Author: <strong>TinaBanina96  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Take your average award show. Add a dash of glitz, a smattering of glamour, and a meddlesome heap of awesome. The Nations' yearly Atlas Awards would never be the same again, if the three of them could help it...

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> **This is what happens when I've spent almost three weeks being incredibly happy/sleep deprived because of the Hetalia Christmas Event. I'm a terrible person writing this when I'm supposed to be finishing the next part of LotL, writing the next part of my fic on DeviantArt and finishing the first chapter of my new fanfic... Oh well, this had to be done...****  
><strong>**On a side note, this is actually my first Hetalia fic ... so leave a review? Please?**

**DISCLAIMER: Hetalia is owned by darling Hima-Papa!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One - Awards, Agreements and Angry Englishmen<strong>

"Germany! Germany, guess what? Three weeks! Only three more weeks!" chirped Italy as he ran into the kitchen, waving a calendar around wildly.

"Three more weeks until what, exactly?" Germany replied, ducking to avoid being hit by the overexcited Italian. He reached out calmly and removed the calendar from Italy's grasp, placing it down onto the counter top next to the sink.

"The Atlas Awards! Isn't that wonderful?" Italy latched onto his arm, and beamed up at him.

"Uh, that is sehr wunderbar Italy." he smiled weakly back. ?The Atlas Awards... so soon?

Germany heard a snort. Looking up, he saw his brother.

"Wunderbar? Yeah, right West." Prussia crossed the room, and opened the door to the fridge. He bent down, grabbed three beers and turned back around.

"That lame show is the total opposite of me. As in, not awesome."

"Germany? Is that true?" Italy looked heartbroken.

Germany sighed, shooting a glare at his brother, who simply shrugged and left the kitchen.

"No Italy. The Atlas Awards are, uh, awesome." Italy didn't seem convinced by his half-hearted statement. "Sehr awesome... almost as awesome as pasta."

At the mention of pasta, Italy brightened up considerably.

"Ve! Pasta! Oh, oh, Germany, let's go get some pasta! You don't have any pasta here at your house though... So we'll have to go to mine!"

Italy dragged the tall German out of the kitchen in pursuit of pasta. He waved to the three Nations gathered in Germany's living room before pulling Germany out the front door with him.

Prussia laughed at the sight of his brother being manhandled by the small Italian. He took a swig of his beer and put it down onto the coffee table (screw coasters, no matter what West said about things leaving marks on the wood).

"Little Italy is so cute!" cooed Spain. "Just like my adorable little Romano~!"

"Ah, l'amour! The air is filled with it today!" France exclaimed from his spot sprawled upon on the couch. He turned his head and peered at his smiling Spanish friend "So where is Romano today?"

"When I asked him if he would like to come hang out with us, he threw a vase at me, called me a bastard and yelled something about you two being perverted wine-gulping potato-sucking freaks." Spain frowned a little. "I think he wanted me to stay with him in Rome."

"So... Romano is at his house, all angry, and Italy just dragged West over there to make pasta?" Prussia smirked. "Good luck bruder."

Prussia continued to laugh at his brother's predicament while Spain started to worry about Romano. After a few moments, the two of them noticed that how silent France was. He hadn't said something innuendo filled or lewd at all.

"Um, France? Yo, earth to France!" Prussia leaned forward and waved his hand around in front of his friend's face. The Frenchman suddenly sat up, causing Prussia to fall backwards and knock over his beer, spilling it.

"Scheiße!" Prussia scrambled up and attempted to wipe up the beer with his shirt sleeve. "West is going to kill me! You know what a clean freak he is!"

Spain, ever the helpful one, went off to get a cloth from the kitchen.

France remained completely still, stunned look on his face, like he'd had some sort of epiphany.

"Three weeks... three weeks..." he muttered under his breath. "Les prix Atlas..."

Returning from the kitchen, Spain handed the frantically scrubbing German -sorry, Prussian, a damp cloth. Prussia reached out and grabbed for it, glaring at the Frenchman.

"Oi France. Stop your muttering and get your ass over here!"

"France?" said Spain, sitting down next to his friend. "My friend, are you ok?" He shot a concerned look towards Prussia, who had managed the mop up most of the beer, and was now swearing at France in German.

"Mes amis!" exclaimed France, flinging his arms out dramatically and almost hitting Spain in the nose. "Did you hear what Italy said just before?"

He looked between his two best friends, expectant look on his face. Spain frowned in confusion. Prussia just scowled a little harder.

"About the pasta?"

"No, no. When he was in the kitchen with yourself and your brother."

"You heard that? Awesome hearing much." Prussia grinned, spilled beer forgotten.

"What are you two talking about?" Spain asked. "What was Italy saying?"

"There's only three more weeks until those Atlas Awards." replied France, smiling in a rather strange way.

"What's so exciting about that?" said Prussia. "Everyone hates those awards. They suck. A lot."

"Prussia's right. The Atlas Awards are never fun. The only good part about them is getting to see Romano all dressed up! So cute!"

France shook his head slowly, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

"Oui, mes amis. The Atlas Awards are possibly the most boring thing in the world. Hours of diplomatic 'awards', listening to our bosses attempt to socialise, and sitting through England's 'witty' banter. Not to mention, the terrible English food, and ridiculously long speeches."

"Like I said, completely unawesome. Even West hates it. Lucky for me, my bosses never make me go."

"Ah, but mon cher, what if I told you that this year, you'd want to go?"

Prussia and Spain both looked at their friend like he was insane, disbelief plastered on their face.

"But France, why on earth would anyone want to go?"

"Are you insane France? Remember, that show is UNAWESOME!"

France laughed , eyeing his friends knowingly.

"If the Atlas Awards are unawesome, as you say Prussia, then why don't we do something about that?"

It took a second for that to sink into the minds of the two other Nations.

"Do you think we could really do that?" said the Spaniard, smile starting to light up his face.

"Of course we can! Meine Freunde, we're the most badass, awesome Nations ever!" affirmed the Prussian, jumping from the floor to standing on the couch. This was greeted with shouts of agreement.

"France, mi amigo, I get the feeling you have a plan?"

"Of course Spain, of course. First of all..." he looked over at the Prussian, who seemed to be doing some sort of victory dance. "Prussia, I need you to talk to your brother..."

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><p><em>Two weeks later...<em>

"You have got to be bloody kidding me!"

The irate Englishman slammed his hand on the desk in front of him.

"What do you mean, the Atlas Awards are going to be in _Berlin_?" he said, scowling at the blond American who had been unfortunate enough to bring him this news. America raised his hands in defense of himself. Damn it. Why was everything on the desk in Arthur's office suddenly looking like a potential projectile?

"England, dude, calm down." America shrugged his shoulders, eyeing England carefully. "All I know is that Germany's boss called the producer people in Los Angeles and asked for them to be moved this year. They contacted my boss, who then called your boss, who agreed."

England furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why didn't I hear about this earlier? The awards are in a week!"

" Oh that... I was kind of supposed to tell you like two weeks ago but I forgot. Whoops! There's something else too!" America started searching through the pockets of his bomber jacket.

England sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes.

"Stupid Yank." he muttered under his breath.

"What'd you say England? Sorry, I sort of zoned out there." the other nation grinned upon finding a piece of crumpled paper in his pocket.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Okay! Here, I'm supposed to give you this!" England snatched the piece of paper away quickly, still scowling.

"You git, were you supposed to give this to me two weeks ago too? Do you realise I only have a week to re-write my speech notes so that my witty remarks are about Berlin and not London? I put a lot of work into writing all those anecdotes so that people enjoy my hosting of the show! Why on earth didn't you tell me earlier like you were supposed too?"

"Oh... right... um, about that..." America said somewhat nervously as England muttered something about 'bloody idiots' while reading the paper. He winced a little as the other nation's eyebrows raised higher and higher while he read A little voice inside his head started urging him to put as much distance between him and the slowly maddening Nation.

"I'M NOT HOSTING THE BLOODY AWARDS?"

America regretted the fact that he had made a habit out of not listening to the voices in his head.

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><p><strong>Hey guys! Like I mentioned, this is actually my first Hetalia fic *shot* so um... try to be nice? I'm sorry for how short this chapter is. It's really just to set the scene, more of an intro than a proper chapter one.<strong>

**Reviews... please?**


	2. Bosses, Bow Ties, and Brainstorming

**AN: Pfffffft, I totally suck, I know. I got back to school recently, and had a bit of a struggle getting this next chapter written (I kind of realised I didn't actually have an exact plot for _how_ the BTT is going to awesomify the Awards XD) Hopefully the next few chapters will be longer... I don't know how often I'll get time to write this!**

**DISCLAIMER: It's not mine... **

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><p><strong>Chapter Two - Bosses, Bow Ties, and Brainstorming - Lame!<strong>

_1pm Tuesday__  
><em>_78 Hours Until AA  
>A Department Store in Berlin<em>

"Wie ist der Anzug, Herr Beilschmidt?" said the young redhead to the tall blonde in the changing room of Berlin's top department stores.

"Sehr gut, danke." Germany glanced at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He had to say, the stylist provided by his boss had done quite a good job picking a suit for him. Not that he wanted to buy a new suit.

If it wasn't for his brother, Germany wouldn't have needed to be inside trying on clothes on a beautiful day such as this. He'd have much rather walked his dogs, or made some wurst. But no. He had to be fitted for a new suit because of those damn Atlas Awards.

He sighed, absentmindedly inspecting the collar on the shirt he was wearing. The stylist clucked approvingly, said something about a tie, and disappeared back into the main store area. Germany nodded, not really paying attention.

He picked at the cuffs on his right arm as he thought back to how he'd gotten himself into this mess.

_"Come on West!" said the Prussian, with a pleading look that he hadn't seen the albino pull in a long time. "You're my little brother, and being the little brother of someone as awesome as me, means that some of my awesome has rubbed off onto you! If we bring the Atlas Awards from lame London to badass Berlin, and you host it instead of England, people might actually enjoy them! Come on West!"_

_Germany let out a frustrated sigh. For the last 24 hours, it seemed like his brother had been unable to talk about anything but the Atlas Awards, how much England sucked, and how awesome Germany was in comparison. When Italy had brought up the Atlas Awards yesterday, Prussia had clearly stated his less than stellar opinion of the awards, but now... Oh why did his brother always have to come up with the most ridiculous ideas?_

_"Preußen, I do not want to host the Atlas Awards!"_

_"Ve~! Germany, why don't you want to host the Atlas Awards? I love the Atlas Awards?"_

_Germany turned quickly to see that the shorter, Mediterranean nation beaming next to him ._

_"I-Italy?" he stuttered. "How do you keep getting in here?" He added under his breath._

_"Ciao Germany! Ciao Prussia!" Italy exclaimed, plastic container in one hand, bright smile on his face. "I brought pasta!"_

_"Italy!" Prussia greeted the Italian happily, than smirked at his brother, At that moment, Germany knew he was doomed. He was used to his brother, so Prussia's attempt at puppy-dog eyes didn't work on him, at all. Unfortunately, Italy loved the Atlas Awards, and his brown eyes were much harder to resist._

Oh right. Italy. As soon as Prussia had convinced Italy that the awards in Berlin would be 'the most awesome thing in the world ever' (which honestly hadn't been very hard), Germany had been powerless.

He'd talked to his boss, and convinced him that moving the Atlas Awards to Berlin would be a good idea. Surprisingly, his boss had agreed almost straight away, and said something about how some other countries bosses had called concerning the same thing.

Thinking back now, it seemed rather suspicious. Germany frowned. No, he was just a little paranoid because he was so tired.

After his boss had made the appropriate phone calls, he'd emailed Germany a list of things he needed to do to prepare for the Awards.

The list had been 15 pages long.

For the last week or so, Germany had been incredibly busy. There were invitations to send, caterers to hire, and locations to scout. There as a speech he had to write, seating plans he had to sort out, trophies he had to had made... not to mention this was even harder to do when a certain Italian refused to leave him alone.

To be honest, Germany was starting to wonder how the hell England actually did all this stuff. It was impossible! Well, usually England had a year to plan it. Germany had just under three weeks.

"Damn you Prussia." he muttered with a very loud sigh.

* * *

><p><em>1pm Tuesday<em>_  
><em>_78 Hours Until AA  
>France's Living Room<em>

"Prussia mon cher, did you manage to acquire the Awards?" said France as he walked into the room, face obscured by a pile of boxes in his arms. Spain followed, also carrying a large pile of boxes.

Prussia rolled his eyes and gestured towards France's kitchen. In his hand was something yellow.

"I dumped them in the kitchen while I was raiding your fridge." Prussia started munching on the thing in his hand. "By the way, you're out of cheese."

France sighed, putting his pile of boxes down next to the cheese-eating Prussian. He flounced rather dramatically into the kitchen, and called out to them.

"Why must you eat me out of house and home mon cher?"

He followed this question up with a loud sigh, and returned to the living room with a bottle of wine and three glasses, balanced on a rather large blue case.

Spain, ever the helpful one, happily put down his own boxes and relieved France of the beverage.

"Merci Spain." purred France as he balanced the box on top of his coffee table (which was already completely overcrowded with a variety of what seemed like art supplies).

"Where should I put this?" asked Spain, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other. "Your table... it's a little, um, full."

Prussia swept his arm over one end of the table, sending a box of paints and a pair of scissors crashing to the floor, causing France to wince.

"Here you go! The awesome me has cleared some room!" Prussia grinned as France rescued the fallen art supplies, sending the Germanic nation a glare as he did.

Spain placed the glasses and wine down on the now free space, careful not to disturb any of the various other things piled on the table.

"Gracias Prussia!"

France sat down on his couch, next to a drink-pouring Spain. He cradled the paints and scissors in his arms, still glaring at Prussia

"This is new carpet! What if you had gotten paint all over it!"

"Chill out Francy-Pants. Your carpet's fine!" Prussia picked up a glass and gestured at the variety of things that also occupied the coffee table. "What's up with all the art crap? Looks like a kindergartner's art supply cupboard threw up in your living room."

"Oh, this?" said France, placing his armful of things back onto the table. "It is all part of my plan, mon cher!"

"And what plan is that, mi amigo?" pondered Spain, taking a hesitant sip from his wineglass. "I mean, you've made us go and collect all this stuff, you still haven't told us what we're actually going to be doing?"

"Pffffft, you don't even have a plan, do you Francy?" snorted Prussia as he did a rather boisterous arm movement. The wine in his glass sloshed dangerously, earning him another glare from the Frenchman, fearing the safety of his carpet.

"Mes ami, I assure you, I do have a most wondrous plan to spice up that that boring prix Atlas." France flipped his hair dramatically, opening up the blue box. "You two have so little faith in me!"

Prussia mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'yeah right'. Spain simply nodded, slightly disbelieving look on his pretty tanned face.

"If you say so France." The Spaniard shrugged, and pointed towards the blue box (which looked as if it was about to go the way of the paints and tumble off the coffee table). "What's in that box?"

Out of the box came a dull gold, strangely shaped trophy, which France proceeded to hand to Spain.

"Wait... you had Prussia steal the awards from under his brother's nose?" Spain chuckled as he inspected the globe like award. "Won't Germany be mad?"

"West will never, ever find out, right France?" said Prussia, suddenly serious. His little brother had a tendency to get rather... well, even more lame than usual when his stuff was stolen. Prussia really didn't enjoy it when his brother was in a mood.

"Of course not! We don't need those tacky things for very long." France extracted another award from the box. "I merely wished to see these things up close and personal. They are much... tackier... then I remember."

"Can you believe West has like 4 of these things? Most organised country... or something lame ass like that. Are all the categories that... stupid?"

"I forgot that you've never actually been to the Atlas Awards Gilbert! The categories aren't thaaat bad... Romano won one for most improved attitude once! He looked so cute, all red as tomato as he went up to get his award!"

"Wait... what?" Prussia spluttered, almost spitting a mouthful of red wine all over France's precious new carpet. "Romano? Improved attitude? God, these things sound like those dumb certificates that teachers give out to six year olds."

"And that, mon cher Prussia, is why we must change the categories." France leered, pulling out a sheet of white paper and three felt-tips from the various random items on the table. "Prussia. Spain. We must combine our three intellects in order to collect ideas and create new, fabulous categories."

"Like a brainstorm?" Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Like, lame France."

"You can choose the colour of your pen?"

It only took a moment for Prussia to consider that, before snatching the a marker out of France's hand.

"Bags the red one!" he exclaimed, before scribbling a quick doodle of a bird onto the paper.

France was left with the blue felt-tip as Spain calmly took the green (after what seemed like a very difficult thought process) and started doodling alongside Prussia.

Now, when one thinks of this particular trio of France, Spain and Prussia, one can associate them when many things. Dashing good looks, terrible parenting skills, a slight tendency for perversion (or, not so slight, in a certain blond's case). One thing that is often overlooked, is exactly how intelligent the so called 'Bad Touch Trio' could be, when they put their minds to it.

So it shouldn't actually be a surprise, when over a few hours of brainstorming, the three good friends managed to completely plan out, well, everything.

"That settles it." France put down his pen. The paper in front was completely filled to the brim with writing, on both sides, in brightly coloured ink. "Prussia, you will contact Hungary and Estonia, and return these awards to your brother."

"I still don't think that I should be the one to talk to Hungary. Through no fault of my own-"

"-Whatever, Prussia!-"

"Shut it France! She doesn't like me very much, ok? You talk to that psycho."

"You simply do not want to be beaten for attempting to irritate the piano player again, don't you?"

"I said shut it France!"

"And I said whatever, Prussia! Fine, Spain, can you speak to Hungary? She will not hurt your cute little face!"

"Of course, mi amigo. And I am also to organise the seating and transport, and to speak to Poland, si?"

"Oui! And of course, I will call the vineyards straight away, and get to work on those-"

France waved delicately towards the boxes he and Spain had brought in earlier.

"- things and send them out as soon as possible!"

France clapped his hands together once in excitement.

"This will be utterly fantastic!"

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><p><strong>It is one of my personal headcanons that Prussia is exactly the type of person that gives people nicknames. Also, France enjoys interior design. Egh, I'm strange XD<br>I update super, super slowly and I apologise for that. I've been feeling angsty lately.  
>The idea for the Atlas Awards I totally based on the Golden Globes... IT FELT APPROPRIATE XD<br>I cannot write Spain to save my life... and I keep slipping back into using their human names (like I am in _Someone Like You_)!  
>Please correct me if you see any errors 3 <strong>


	3. Conversations, Carjacking, and Cobalt

**AN: Fail!Author is fail :) /Another long wait... Sorry guys!**

**DISCLAIMER: It's not mine...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three – Conversations, Carjacking, and Cobalt is a Colour!<strong>

_Many Different Time Zones, Thursday__  
><em>_24 Hours Until AA  
>Various Locations<em>

"This has... this has got to be a joke aru..."

"Aniki! I think it's fantastic! Clearly it originated in Korea!"

"..."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry to wake you, Mr. Greece, but a package has arrived for you."<p>

"S'ok. Send it..."

"Ugh... Mr Greece? Mr Greece! Wake up!"

* * *

><p>"Poland, you don't seriously expect me to-"<p>

"Oh my gosh Liet! It's like, totally fetch!"

"Sometimes I worry about you Poland."

"And I worry about your horrible style _all_ the time honey! Now come on, I'm late for my manicure!"

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

"Agent White. It's Agent Pink. Just checking in on-"

"Everything is up and running. It's all been set up to your exact requirements."

"Thank you."

"Ugh...if you don't mind me asking... why exactly are you helping them?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"... Ah. I apologise."

"That's perfectly fine... now tell me, did you get one of-"

"No, he has not sent me one. He has also promised not to send one to Latvia."

"I see."

"Ms Hu-I mean, Agent Pink... he didn't...?"

"No, or course not! I'm on his side. Darling Austria, on the other hand..."

* * *

><p>"I have to hand it to you, Red mon cher, you've done a wonderful job in convincing White. The same for you, Green, in talking to Yellow and Pink."<p>

"It was no problem mi amigo!"

"Yeah, nothing's too hard for the awesome me!"

"Onhonhonhonhon... there isn't long left mes amis... not long at all."

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><p><em>4pm Friday<em>_  
><em>_3 Hours Until AA  
>Germany's Bedroom<em>

"Hey West, how long till little Italy gets here?"

"He was supposed to be here half an hour ago." Germany sighed, knotting and re-knotting the striped tie round his neck. "I seriously hope he remembered to put pants on this year..."

Prussia stifled a snicker.

"Sometimes West, I wonder about you..."

Germany heard his brother declare this while his voice faded away. He looked up from staring intently at his shoes to see Prussia no longer hanging around the doorway of his room.

"Bruder? I hate to ask, really, but please, please do not destroy the house while I am gone. I know that you can't possibly have France and Spain over, as they'll be at the awards with me... but-"

"Oh relax, West."

His brother's head popped around the doorway with a large grin.

"You can trust me to be alone for one night West. I'm not a kid."

Germany sighed.

"If you ins-"

"By the way, Italy's here. Should I send him up for you? You know, because I'm such an amazing mature and helpful big brother?"

Germany pondered this for a moment. Taking one last look at his reflection in the mirror, he nodded and Prussia disappeared into the corridor again.

"Hey West, really, you should trust me more. Jeez.

"Just go right on up Italy!" he said cheerfully to the Italian waiting in the hallway, who smiled back in response and practically skipped up the stairs. Prussia grinned as he heard his brother shout.

"Gott verdammt Italien! Where are your pants?"

Quietly, as the Italian babbled something about 'the glories of his grandfather', Prussia made his way back up the stairs and shut the door to Germany's room, as tightly and quietly as possible.

_God this is easy_, he thought, sprinting down the stairs, keys grasped tightly in his hand. _I can't believe he didn't even notice the locks I put on his door._

Making his way out the front door, Prussia made sure to lock up. He'd had the locks changed a little while ago, while his brother had been getting a suit fitted.

In fact, he'd made a lot of little changes around the house. He was sure his brother would... appreciate the new security measures.

Whistling, he threw his keys- sorry, Germany's keys – up in the air a few times as he entered Germany's garage and unlocked the driver door of a black Mercedes-Benz. Pulling out of the garage, he laughed.

_I wonder how long until he notices?_

The unfamiliar phone in his pocket rang, and he picked it up.

"Agent Red?" the voice on the line said tentatively.

"Here and awesome!" he replied, swearing as he stopped at a traffic light which had definitely not been red like a millisecond ago. "Mission accomplished."

"Magnifique. See you soon."

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><p><em>4:15pm, Friday<br>2 hours 45 minutes until AA  
>Various Locations, Berlin<em>

"Agent Yellow –"

"Ewww, like, why do I have to be Agent Yellow? I mean, like, yellow totally clashes with my skin tone."

"Suck it up, Yellow. I thought for a long time about these codenames."

"Like, hell to the no, Agent _Blue_."

"I have told you, it is _Agent Cobalt_. Now just stop talking for a moment, I need to call Red."

"Whatevs, blue-boy."

"It is _Agent Cobalt_. Now please, go find out whether Green has arrived yet"

"Like, sure, _Cerulean_."

"_COBALT!_"

* * *

><p>"Agent Red?"<p>

"Here and awesome!"

"I se-"

"Oh shit! FREAKING TRAFFIC LIGHT... Mission accomplished!"

"...Magnifique. See you soon."

"Why are we speaking in codenames anyway? I mean, it's not like anyone can hear us."

"It is more... dramatic this way."

"Right. Oh verdammt! I SWEAR THESE TRAFFIC LIGHTS ARE MESSING WITH ME."

"Where are you Red?"

"Driving. On my way."

"You're driving? Who's car?"

"Uh...West's..."

"..."

"Yeah?"

"That's brave of you, mon cher."

"I changed the locks to his home, added bolts on the windows, disconnected his phone line and stole his cell phone. I'm pretty sure taking his car too won't make much of a difference."

"And where is your brother now?"

"I..."

"Speak up Red."

"I locked him in his room with Italy."

"I worry about your future after tonight."

"I hope he thinks of it as an awesome awakening... or some metaphor or something."

"How far away now?"

"Around 20 minutes, if these freaking traffic lights stop being major pricks."

"Try not to crash."

* * *

><p>"Like, hi Green!"<p>

"Oh, Po- erm, Yellow."

"Rainbow."

"What?"

"Rainbow. Call me Agent Rainbow."

"But Coba-"

"Um... Blue said he was totally fine with it."

"If you insist..."

"Don't look at me like that Green! Anyways, Blue wanted me to check if you were here yet, and you clearly, like, are."

"I would have been here earlier, but I had a little trouble with Romano. Something about Italy and a ... bedsheet?"

"Oh... that. Like, it's just the most fabulous things we sent everyone. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

"Of course. Silly of me to question your expertise, si?"

"Like, totes darling! Anywaaaaay... the audio and visual feeds?"

"White and Pink-"

"Did you just say Pink? OH. MY. GOSH. How come she gets to be Pink?"

"Yellow-"

"RAINBOW!"

"I'm not sure. Cobalt set up the code names. Anyway, the feeds are set up and White is back with all the equipment now. Could you please find Pink and ask her where the microphones are? I still need one for Red."

"Like, fabulous. BRB darling!"

* * *

><p>"Ah, White. Wonderful job on the equipment!"<p>

"Thank you, Cobalt. I must admit, the facilities here in Berlin have quite advanced technological systems."

"Wonderful!"

"Agent Cobalt, if I may ask... why are we doing this again?"

"Oh... mon cher, it is all for the fun of it... and not to mention the wonderful images."

"I'm not sure I understand that reasoning."

"You do not need to."

"May I ask one more question?"

"But of course!"

"Could you please take your hand off my lap Agent Cobalt?"

* * *

><p><strong>IUSJDIJSDAKJS I am so so late updating this... But I actually have been extraordinarily busy. Umm... I hope you enjoyed this? And leave a review? Please? SHOT**


	4. Dior, Diamonds, and Dudes in Dresses

**AN: Oh I'm terrible! I really am! Sorry about the wait guys /begs forgiveness**

**DISCLAIMER: It's not mine...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four – Dior, Diamonds and Dudes In Dresses<strong>

_4:05pm, Friday__  
><em>_2 hours 55 minutes Until AA  
>Germany's Bedroom<em>

"Ciao Germany!"

Germany sighed as an Italian jumped onto him, enveloping him with as big a hug as his much smaller frame could give.

"I'm sorry I'm late! I was on my way but you see I drove past a store and they were having a sale on pasta so I went inside and the nice lady shopkeeper told me she liked my outfit but the mean other shopkeeper told me that my style of dress wasn't appropriate and I didn't understand because I'm not wearing a dress so then I-"

Germany pried Italy off him as he spoke at what seemed like 100 kilometres a second. Italy beamed and kept talking while German inspected his sty-

"Gott verdammt Italien! Where are your pants?"

Germany turned his head away quickly blushing furiously as he held the Italian out at arms' length.

"I left them at home, of course!"

Italy squirmed in Germany' grasp and flailed his arms around, gesturing wildly at everything on himself... which wasn't exactly a lot.

"Do you like it Germany? It's wonderful isn't it? I like how breezy it is! Also, it reminds me of my Grandpa Rome! He used to wear one all the time and I thought that it looked really pretty on me too! I think it really helps me connect with the glory of my Grandpa, or at least that's what that note said when I-"

"Where did you get that?" Germany let go of the Italian and stared at him for a moment, face slightly flushed. "Why are you wearing that?"

Italy glanced down at his, frankly, rather short toga. He looked back up at Germany, confusion plastered over his adorable face.

"B-but Germany... you told me to wear it!" he stammered. Germany raised his eyebrows.

"W-what? I did no such thing! Where did you get that?"

Italy's lip quivered a little.

"You don't think I look nice Germany?"

"You look... ugh... lovely Italy. Where did you get that?"

"YOU THINK I'M UGLY!" Italy wailed, before bursting into tears.

Germany sighed.

Well, scheiβe.

* * *

><p><em>5pm, Friday<em>_  
><em>_2 hours Until AA  
>Backstage, Atlas Awards<em>

"We ready?"

"We're ready!"

Agent Pink grinned, unclipping the microphone off her perfectly styled-self and passing it back over to Agent Rainbow, who matched her grin with a beam of his own.

Agent Rainbow attached the microphone, before furrowing his eyebrows and pursing his lips, looking himself up and down quickly. Glancing back up at Agent Pink, he raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

Agent Pink tilted her head slightly to the side, hands on hips. Agent Rainbow's thin frame was dressed in pale pink. The dress was draped beautifully, skirts flowing out from the intricately beaded sash.

"Give us a twirl!"

Obliging, Agent Rainbow spun quickly around on one foot. Agent Pink clapped her hands.

"Fantastic! Perfect! You're a vision!"

"Oh thank god!" Agent Rainbow threw his hands up in the air dramatically, before delicately smoothing down layers of pale-pink tulle. "I was like, totally not sure whether I could pull this off. The colour is juuuuust on the brink of making me look like, pale and stuff, you know? And like, I totally didn't want to not wear it, considering how freaking gorgeous it is."

"That reminds me..." Agent Pink said, eyeing Agent Rainbow's outfit with a trained eye. Agent Rainbow stopped fussing with the skirt of his dress, and raised an eyebrow.

"Like, yeah?"

"Is that... vintage Dior?" said Agent Pink, the slightest hint of awe in her voice.

A slow smile spread over Agent Rainbow's face.

"Why yes... yes it is!"

"Where did you get that? It must have cost a fortune!"

"You're the one wearing freaking diamonds around your waist!"

"... Point taken. But still, where did you get it?"

"Hey, like, how do you think Agent Aquamarine got me to help out with this thing? Bribery! Say what you want about them, but the French are like, seriously invested in their fashion industry. Almost as much as I am!"

"I bow down to the Style Queen."

"Damn straight darling! Though, you're looking totally rocking yourself!"

"Why thank you!"

"Excuse me, Agents Pink and Yellow-."

"Rainbow!" yelled Agent Rainbow as they turned to see a flustered looking Agent White coming towards him.

"I apologise." Agent White bowed his head slightly. "You two look lovely."

"I know." Agent Rainbow rolled his eyes, while Agent Pink smiled.

"What is it?"

"Agent Cobalt wants you out front now, Rainbow."

"Thanks White! See ya darlings!" Agent Rainbow blew a quick kiss at his fellow agents, before strutting off. Agent Pink suppressed a laugh, before turning back to Agent White.

"Is there anything I should be doing now?"

"Ma chère Agent Pink! You are certainly looking magnificent. Austria is a luck- well, maybe not lucky..."

Agent Cobalt entered, slight smirk on his face as he surveyed the two nations before him.

"Not too bad yourself Cobalt. Nice dress you picked out."

"Do not doubt my fashion sense, ma petite."

"Oh, I wasn't."

"Why must it always feel like you are insulting my beautiful self? Come now, mes amis. People are arriving."

"But I was of the knowledge that the awards show would not be starting for another 2 hours?"

"Seriously, White? You didn't know about the pre-show event?"

" Ah, Agent White... clearly you do not comprehend the total mastery and ingenuity of my plan..."

"Cobalt, I do believe you're scaring him."

* * *

><p><strong>Slightly off topic... but I was seriously pleasantly surprised by all the positive feedback I got on <strong>_**So You Say**_**, a crack fic I wrote in an attempt to break my writers' block on this :D That only helped to prove to me that this fandom is a beautiful loving place /HUGS  
>I'm actually so so so so so sorry about the lateness of this chapter. Really. I also apologise for the crappiness. Hopefully things will start to pick up now that the fun part is starting...<strong>


	5. Entrances, Eavesdropping, and Englock

**AN: Hahahahahaha yeah I suck. I haven't updated in much too long, but I HAVE REASONS. I really, really, really apologise. A lot.**

**DISCLAIMER: It's not the property of myself :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five – Entrances, Eavesdropping, and Englock Holmes Time<strong>

_5:05pm, Friday__  
><em>_1 hours 55 minutes Until AA  
>Germany's Bedroom<em>

It took three hugs, a 20 minute long apology, 5 offers of stuffed toys and a promise of pasta to come to get Italy to stop sobbing like the world was about to end. It didn't help that when Italy got into this sort of a state, the slightest thing could set him off crying again.

"...and you promise you'll never ever ever _ever _say I'm ugly again?"

"I didn't say you were..."

Germany stopped dead in his tracks as Italy's eyes widened.

"I mean, of course Italy."

"Pinkie promise!"

The Italian held out the aforementioned pinkie, tearstained face hopeful.

Germany sighed and locked pinkies with the smaller nation.

* * *

><p><em>5:15pm, Friday<em>_  
><em>_1 hour, 45 minutes Until AA  
>Outside the Atlas Awards<em>

England scowled as he stepped out of the black car carefully, only to stumble on the kerbside and fall face first into the plush red ca- wait... what?

Expecting a mouth full of concrete, he was pleasantly surprised (and somewhat sceptical of the fact) that instead, his fall had been met by a deep red, velvet like carpet, that, upon a quick survey of his surroundings, extended right from where he was at the side of the road, all the way down the pavement towards the large building where the awards were being held.

Along the edges of the red carpet, velvet ropes had been set up. England had the strangest feeling that he was at the BAFTAs, strange screaming fans, bulky security guards and all.

"This is rather nice." remarked his boss quietly. England jumped. He had almost forgotten that the Prime Minister was there with him. "Quite different from what it's usually like, isn't it?"

"It's... suspicious, if you ask me."

The Prime Minister rolled his eyes, before waving a hand vaguely towards the building.

"Just enjoy not being the host for once.'" raising an eyebrow, the Prime Minister frowned. "Is that that actor? You know, the one with that big movie coming out and the divorce being finalised?"

England turned towards where his boss was gesturing, expecting a case of mistaken identity.

To his surprise... it really was what's-his-name (honestly, it wasn't like he was an English actor, just another stereotypical 'Hollywood style stud' or something. England didn't need to remember the name of what's-his-name... even if he had won three Oscars).

"Blimey, what's he doing here? Isn't he too much of a big-shot for this sort of thing?"

England scoffed, dusting off his jacket.

"This is a highly important event with many prominent politicians. Any stupid 'blockbuster' celebrity would do well to come and make connections."

The Prime Minister kept his eyebrow raised, sighing at his own country's snobbish tendencies.

"Well it certainly looks like those celebrities are thinking the way you are. What's-his-name brought friends."

Suffice to say, England was rather gobsmacked to look around and see that what's-his-name had actually brought friends.

In fact mixed amongst the various world leaders, were a lot of well known faces (including some very respectable English actor's, like those two chaps from the modern reimagining of a well known classic detective novel, and that lovely girl who was in the movie about that fashion magazine).

"What on Earth is going on here..." he said to himself.

"Ah, England! You weren't supposed to arrive yet!"

England almost jumped at the voice.

" Bloody hell! Spain?"

"Ah, good evening Mr. Prime Minister. Please, let me escort you to your seat. Stay right here England!"

England scowled as his boss walked off with Spain, chatting happily together as Spain led him inside.

First the celebrities, now Spain? Well, Spain was meant to be there... but after a look around, England had noticed no countries other than himself and the smiling European. Which was odd. Very odd.

So of course he wasn't going to bloody 'stay here'. He was going in.

* * *

><p><em>5:25pm, Friday<em>_  
><em>_1 hour, 35 minutes Until AA  
>Inside the Atlas Awards<em>

Spain seated the England's boss quickly. The man was pleasant, and knew quite a bit about Spanish cuisine, so Spain found it quite easy to strike up a conversation.

The English Prime Minister had been very interested in the presence of celebrities not normally found at this particular event, but Spain's naturally disarming smile and conversational skills had led his brain in another direction.

One down, only... a lot more to go.

The problem here now, was England.

Spain had known England for centuries, so of course he recognised the suspicion evident on England's face when he had first spotted the major celebrities. Spain also knew England well enough to guess that, England was probably not very happy with the fact that the Awards (traditionally hosted by him, and him alone) had been taken away from him.

Now, though Spain realised all these things, he didn't really have any ideas about dealing with a suspicious, cranky England. Those sorts of plans were better left to Fr- er, Agent Cobalt.

Heading backstage, Spain noticed that the door to the dressing room that Agent Cobalt had assigned to the host of the Awards was closed tight. He smiled. Glad to see that thing were indeed running smoothly.

He wondered when Romano would get here. He was meant to arrive in around 10 minutes or so, but knowing his precious South Italy, he probably wouldn't be here for at least another 20.

After meeting backstage with Agent Pink to confirm Agent Rainbow's position, Spain headed back towards the dressing room. He knocked once before calling out.

"How are things going in there?"

"Fantastique, mon cher!" replied a voice from inside the room. "I shall be done in 10, 15 minutes maximum. Is everything ok out front?"

"Everyone seems to be having a good time... only..."

"Only what?"

"England is here."

"Mon dieu! What?"

"He arrived with the English Prime Minister."

"Trust that stupid eyebrows to show up early. Where is he now? Tell me you did not seat him with his boss?"

"I told him to stay where he was!"

"... Sacre bleu. Of course he will not stay there. Never mind, I will deal with him later."

* * *

><p><em>5:35pm, Friday<em>_  
><em>_1 hour, 25 minutes Until AA  
>Inside the Atlas Awards<em>

Following Spain had been a brilliant idea. The happy nation hadn't noticed thing, not even when stopping to talk to someone backstage (he hadn't been able to make out who, but the voice had been female, and the conversation had been very strange – something about where rainbow would be a separate times?)

England knew he had struck gold when Spain stopped outside a dressing room and knocked.

"How are things going in there?" the Spaniard chirped.

"Fantastique, mon cher!"

Oh god! England knew that voice.

Of course the frog was behind this... whatever _this _was.

* * *

><p><strong>I have been... much too emotional lately to write comedy. I hope this chapter was ok!. On another note, let me take this opportunity to promote myself and the gorgeous Emma CS Me's Eurovision Collaboration fic, <strong>_**Light Your Fire**_**. It can be found on our new joint account, Emina C6, and it's going to be a lot of fun :)**


	6. Fame, Fortune, and Freaking French Wine

**AN: It has been forever and I apologise. I have been sick, and had exams, and then Nationals, then more exams, then being sick again! Gah I'm terrible I know!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six – Fame, Fortune, and Freaking French Wine<strong>

_5:40pm, Friday  
>1 hours 20 minutes Until AA<br>Inside the Atlas Awards_

England swore to himself quietly as he snuck away from the dressing room. That stupid bloody frog-headed bastard stealing his damn moment in the sun! The frog had been sly, putting the event in Germany so that the blame was not on him initially, but England was too smart be kept in the dark forever!

The Atlas Awards were _his _to host. He didn't care how conceited he sounded. He damn well knew that the only person who could do justice to the Awards was him, with his witty one-liners and interesting fun facts.

"England? Like, is that you?"

Startled, England almost jumped. Calming himself down, he found himself looking at a blond nation in a rather expensive looking pink dress.

"Poland?"

"You're like, not meant to be here."

"You're wearing a dress."

"It's totally fabulous, isn't it? Unlike that stuffy old suit you're wearing. Seriously, you wear that like, every year. Anyway, what are you doing backstage?"

"I could ask you the same question!"

"Stop looking so freaking offended! Seriously though, you shouldn't be here."

Poland took a step forward, lifting the hem of his dress delicately with one hand to avoid stepping on it. His other hand latched itself on in a death grip around England's arm.

"Unhand me this instant Poland!"

"Nuh-uh! I am getting you out of here!"

England struggled to pry Poland's hand off as he was dragged down the corridor. Poland's grip didn't relinquish as he continued to talk.

"You weren't supposed to get here this early, but now that you're here, you may as well enjoy the show before the show!"

"What the devil are you talking about?"

"The pre-show event, of course!"

"There is no pre-show event, you twat!"

"Oh my god, you are so behind! Ugh, stop moving so much! If you rip this dress, I will wax those heinous eyebrows off and force feed them to you!"

The look on Poland's face at the mere thought of damaging his dress was murderous. England found himself giving up.

Not because he couldn't pull the smaller nation's hand off his arm. No, it was a strategic decision, of course.

He needed to find out what this 'pre-show event' was, and if watching it was the best way to do it, then so be it.

* * *

><p><em>5:42pm, Friday<br>1 hours 18 minutes Until AA  
>Inside the Atlas Awards<em>

"Agent Rainbow! Where are you?"

Rainbow heard White's voice in his ear as he pulled England towards where the English Prime Minister was sitting.

All of the guests were seated in small groups in tables of around 8. England's boss's table was looking a little empty. It seemed the American President, his wife, and the English Ambassador to Germany hadn't yet arrived.

"I'm like, on my way. Ran into England." said Rainbow into the microphone attached to the bodice of his dress. England looked at him with confusion, and he gestured at his ear.

"I'm like, wearing an ear piece. Calm the farm!"

Smiling at England's boss, he let go of England's arm.

"Good Evening! Like, I'm sorry to greet and run, but I have to go! Have a great time!"

Turning back to England, he pointed at the empty seat next to the Prime Minster and frowned.

"You're like, not actually supposed to sit here, but I totally don't have time to show you where you're meant to sit. Bye now!"

Leaving behind a befuddled English Prime Minister and angry England, Poland made his way outside. It took him only a minute or so to find the German camera crew, who had set up a small stage.

"Are you in position now?" asked White.

"Ready and waiting!"

"Good. We begin in 15 minutes. Green is on his way out to meet you, and seat the last of the guests."

Poland squinted as he saw a black car pull up. Was that... oh!

"Green might want to hurry his fabulous ass up. We've got Nations!"

* * *

><p><em>5:45pm, Friday<br>1 hours 15 minutes Until AA  
>Inside the Atlas Awards<em>

"Was that Poland?" asked the Prime Minister as England sat down.

England nodded, eyeing his boss. The Prime Minister looked quite comfortable, a glass of wine on the table in front of him, a Hollywood starlet in the seat opposite.

Huh? Wine? England almost swore again. Traditionally, in his years of hosting, the Atlas Awards had been an alcohol free event. Though England wasn't one to preach the evils of drinking, he certainly hadn't wanted a bunch of drunk nations ruining his award show.

Looks like France didn't have the same issue.

"Why was Poland wearing a dress?"

"I have no bloody clue."

"That girl's dress was amazing! It must have cost a bomb!" tittered the overly made up starlet, fluttering her eyelashes at the Spanish Prime Minister on her left.

England rolled his eyes. The girl (who, as he had found out from various tabloids, was a notorious recently divorced social climber) was clearly already a little drunk, judging from the empty bottle of chardonnay in front of them.

"I heard there was meant to be a pre-show event. That's never happened before, has it?" asked the Prime Minister of New Zealand (who was seated his own boss' right side).

"Not when we hosted it. I'm sure it'll be interesting though. How long until that starts?" answered his boss. England fumed inside.

"5 minutes or so, according to the screen!" said the starlet.

"What screen?" asked England.

"The one up there!"

England looked up towards the stage area. Sure enough, making up the backdrop was a screen showing a countdown.

How the hell hadn't he noticed that?

* * *

><p><em>5:47pm, Friday<br>1 hours 13 minutes Until AA  
>Outside the Atlas Awards<em>

"Oh my god, you're here! Quick, get the guests inside!"

Green nodded, quickly heading off to usher the last of the bosses and celebrities inside. Rainbow grinned at his camera crew.

"Like, ok boys! Time to get this show on the road!"

* * *

><p><em>5:50pm, Friday<br>1 hours 15 minutes Until AA  
>Inside the Atlas Awards<em>

England had just about had enough. It had only been five minutes, but he was already sick of listening to the airheaded bleached blond starlet lead the conversation. He dearly wished one of the politicians at the table would interrupt her, but it seemed they had decided to focus on their wine glasses.

This was why he never let alcohol be served. This is why he didn't invite celebrities.

He was grateful when the lights in the room dimmed and the countdown on the screen reached zero.

Or at least he was, until the screen changed to a video feed of Poland. In the background, England could see cars pulling up and a slightly frantic Spain rushing politicians inside

"Good evening everyone, and welcome to the Atlas Awards! I'm Poland and I'll be your guide to the red carpet this evening! Everything will be totally fabulous, so please, enjoy this pre-show event!"

Poland opened to rapturous applause from the inside of the Awards. England could only feel an impending sense of doom.

* * *

><p><strong>AND THE FUN BEGINS!<strong>


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